


The Midweek Special

by DT Maxwell (Draya)



Series: Our Blades Are Sharp [13]
Category: Star Wars: The Old Republic
Genre: Food Porn, Gen, Phae's third favorite thing in the galaxy after her family and knives is food, Sith Shenanigans, Sphere of Ancient Knowledge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 16:02:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1716473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draya/pseuds/DT%20Maxwell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, <em>Don't Interrupt Phae During Lunch if You Don't Want a Knife in the Eye</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Midweek Special

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to my [tumblr](http://dragons-bones.tumblr.com/post/67172858514/swtor-the-midweek-special-or-dont-interrupt-phae) in November 2013.
> 
> As previously mentioned, Darth Valere belongs to infiniteprobabilities over on tumblr.

Phae wriggled in delight as she opened the box of takeout and the smell of perfectly cooked pulled traladon began to fill her office. She was so swamped with reports today that she hadn’t been able to go out for lunch as she usually did, but luckily that was what the runners were for.

(Private Jahlen was her favorite in particular because she _also_ had the Kaas Blue Diner’s menu memorized. The Reclamation Service researcher had zipped out of the Citadel and down to the city’s center without prodding to fetch a takeout lunch of pulled traladon, sides of Revwien coleslaw and creamy topato soup, and a sweesonberry roll so fresh the light sugar glaze was still oozing. Phae hadn’t _quite_ been able to stop herself from squealing in delight.

She’d miss her terribly, but Jahlen’s competence was wasted being a runner, especially with how well she did her research. Next time a spot opened on one of the off-world digs, Phae would shove her onto a transport herself, and tell her to get a nice tan and drive Captain Aurek nuts on her behalf.

…Or maybe she should just make the private her official assistant. Oooh, that could work _nicely._

Anyway.)

The Sith took a moment to simply inhale and bask in the smell of Good Food, and let a dreamy smile pull at the corners of her mouth. Phae was absolutely going to rhapsodize about this lunch to her husband over the comm tonight, since there was absolutely no way she could ever stay silent about her deep and abiding love of the Kaas Blue and its food. Andronikos was probably going to have an almighty sulk about missing the pulled traladon special, since it was his favorite, too, and instead of lounging about their Kaas City penthouse, he was stuck dodging Republic patrols to get a shipment of artifacts back to Dromund Kaas from Ilum. Phae couldn’t quite bring herself to feel bad about it, though, because honestly. _Pulled traladon._ Corellian food was the _best._

(And honestly, her husband probably would have been furious if she hadn’t taken advantage of the diner’s best-selling special, too, since it made the dish on very rare occasions. And there were a surprising number of ex-pat Corellians on Dromund Kaas that descended upon the Kaas Blue in _droves_ when it did Corellian specials.)

Phae settled into the comfortable depths of her chair, wiggling her boots off and bringing her legs up to sit cross-legged. She dragged her meal closer and unwrapped the utensils from their plastic packaging, humming happily as she did so. She dug her fork into the mound of pulled traladon, giving it a few rough stirs to more evenly distribute the Kaas Blue Diner’s absolutely _divine_ sauce, then took a bite.

Phae purred as she chewed. The sauce gave the traladon a sweet tanginess, enhancing the succulent smokey richness of the meat itself. And it had just a hint of spices, nothing too hot, but just enough to give everything a slight kick.

Fucking perfect.

(Only two others did pulled traladon better: Arty, and a tiny hole-in-the-wall barbecue place on the outskirts of Coronet City. She had no idea what type of alchemy the Coronet dive wrought, but Arty had managed to hang on to their mother’s recipe and then shamelessly exploited her contacts with old clients to get the best cuts of meat possible for her own special. Phae was fairly certain her eldest sister had actually killed someone for her sauce recipe, though.)

As she raised her fork to take another bite, however, the door to her office flew open and one of the apprentices flew in, wildly waving a datapad. “Darth Makhaira, Lord Cythar wanted me to-“

The apprentice, a Zabrak practically still smelling of Korriban’s chilly dust and ozone, skidded to a halt with a yelp, staring down and cross-eyed at the throwing knife hovering right before his jugular. He was smart enough not to gulp.

Phae dropped her arm, flicking her wrist so another knife dropped from the quick-release sheath she wore, hidden by her long sleeve, into her palm. She danced the glittering blade across her knuckles as she glared at the apprentice. “Gevro, what time is it?”

“Um, it’s currently thirteen hundred hours, my lord.”

“Which is?”

“…Lunch time, my lord.”

“And the rule is…?”

“Not to bother you at lunch time, my lord, barring an emergency.”

“Very good. Is the Dark Council having an apoplexy about something I did?”

“No, my lord, not at the moment.”

“Is the Emperor requesting my presence?”

“No, my lord.”

“Has someone been eaten or driven mad by an experiment down in the alchemy labs?”

"Well, um, Lord Rathe did leave Darth Valere’s lab speaking in tongues about fifteen minutes ago."

Phae pursed her lips. “…I would say that’s business as usual for anyone stupid enough to enter Darth Valere’s lab uninvited.”

“Then, ah, no, my lord.”

Phae set down the knife she had been toying with, raised her hand, and crooked her finger. The knife pressing lightly against Gevro’s throat came soaring back to the Darth; she caught it neatly and set it down next to its sibling. Phae tilted her head, narrowed her eyes at the apprentice, and said, “You’re still new, so I’m willing to be lenient just this once. Will you make this mistake again?”

Gevro shook his head frantically. “Absolutely not, my lord.”

“Very good. Now. _Get out._ ”

“Yes, my lord. Thank you, my lord. Sorry to disturb you, my lord.” He bowed deeply and backed out of her office, making sure to close the door behind him.

Phae grumbled and took another bite of her meal, her mood slowly improving as she chewed. She’d give him points for not trying to push whatever Cythar had sent him up for, especially because Cythar _definitely_ knew Phae hated being interrupted while she was eating. Gevro was diligent in his work and had promise, and more than likely had been the one to reach whatever conclusion Cythar was trying to claim credit for regarding his research.

Whatever. Politics could be addressed after she had finished her lunch.


End file.
